Thoughts on Paper

News from the coalface.

I sent somebody a photograph of my messy writing last night.

I am normally a very tidy person. Everything has to be clean, tidy, just so. Last night I abandoned my organised desk and shifted camp to a table so I could scribble while listening to music on the big grown-up hifi. I stood up to make a cuppa, came back to the table where I was working, and just thought, I’ve got to send a photo of that to somebody who knows how tidy I normally am.

‘Oh, you write freehand,’ came the reply.

It is not something I think about much, but this morning, as an alternative to actually doing some work, I thought I would ponder about why I write this way?

That photograph does not do it justice, but it was not staged, I just grabbed my phone and took a photograph of how I left it when I stood up. The blue file has been plonked on top of yet more pads and notes. At the time, I had three A4 pads, four A5 pads, countless Post-it notes, and the file on the go. That is a pencil, by the way, not a pen. I have to write with a pencil.

When I am writing, by which I mean when I am writing, with words pouring out of my head, I simply cannot work on a screen. A table covered in pads with Post-it notes handy is the writing equivalent of painting on canvas. I have all the paints and brushes to hand, and the entire canvas in front of me to be as creative as I need to be. It is instant, organic, free.

I find a screen too limiting. You have a keyboard and a flashing cursor, and any freedom vanishes when you have to scroll and scroll, navigate through menus, or worst of all, find and open another document. It is like trying to paint your canvas while only allowed to see a tiny part of it at a time.

I am sure it must work for some people. Maybe plotters work better on a screen, able to focus on the task in hand, knowing exactly what they need to write. I am the ultimate pantser, and I need the freedom to work in madness.

Everybody and his dog seems to have ADHD these days. I was diagnosed with this string of letters last year as part of something entirely different, although quite what I am expected to do with this information at the age of sixty-one, I have no idea. Maybe it is just a fancy term for what we used to call a busy mind? My guess is that it is nothing out of the ordinary, and lots of people like me just get on with life without even being aware of such things. Mine is a particularly extreme form, hence it got noticed, and apparently, most people do not have quite as much madness going through their heads all day (and probably all night too), but I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of fiction writers do.

Is this the difference between plotters and pantsers? Do plotters have nice tidy minds, and yes, this is the sentence I am going to concentrate on now. I know exactly where I am going. And pantsers are aaarrrggghhh! I can’t get these words out of my head fast enough!

I don’t claim to have any of the answers, these are just my thoughts on a Sunday morning before I get in the shower and set the day in motion. Hopefully, by jotting down what works for me, it may help somebody else to try something different, because that is how we all get better at life.

I see comments so often about people staring at a blank screen, not knowing what to write. Well, why not turn the screen off, turn all the screens off? Grab a pad, not a little notebook, a proper pad with lots of space to be creative, and a pencil. Take it somewhere with music, silence, a view, whatever is handy and works for you. Maybe that will allow the words to come together?

Try freedom. You might just like it.

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Yes, this was written on paper, while sitting up in bed if you must know. And the music last night was Goldfrapp, Julie Fowlis, and Mahler’s glorious Fifth.

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